vendredi, le 02 octobre 2009
Brave is still hobbling along on crutches. It seems like an eternity has passsed since he was knocked off his bicycle and it seems like another eternity is going to pass before he will be back on his own two feet. Literally.
Brave has sent Lovemore to help me out in the meantime. He is tall, thin, neatly dressed and laughs easily. Not quite as heartily and infectiously as Brave, but still. I like people who laugh easily, they generally deal with sorrow better.
I wonder what his parents were thinking when they gave him his name. Did they think they would need to love him more than others? Or did they think that he would love more than others? Or did they think he would simply love more people and things to do justice to his name? Did they instinctively know the importance of love?
Lovemore tells me he won’t be able to work for me next week. Nor the next two weeks for that matter. He is going to his homeland to visit his family. Selfishly I immediately think of my garden. It’s is again facing neglect with no-one to Edward Scissorhands the bushes into shape. Then I realise the sacrifices Lovemore has to make to spend the largest part of the year away from his family, his loved ones, to earn a meager living in a foreign land.
I give Lovemore his wage. I give him a little extra and tell him to have a safe journey. Tell him to take care of himself. A broad smile spreads across his face. He hugs me spontaneously. I think how easy it is to make a little difference to somebody else’s life.
(Life coaches and the like often pose the question: ‘If time and money were not the issue, what would you like to do?’ Right now I’d like to be in the city I like best, with a metro ticket in my purse, the cobble-stoned pavements beneath my feet and a street café close by.)
Posted by Rispa Frances at 23:46